


All Hot and Bothered

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [52]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Hot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Talking about the weather here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Dedicated to the current NYC heat wave that brought Hanella out of retirement for a minute.





	All Hot and Bothered

Sticky, wet, oppressive heat permeated every inch of the city, east to west, north to south. The air was so thick it had weight. Stella remembered what that kind of humidity was like from a summer some years back, when she and Hank were crossing oceans to see each other. It was tolerable when it was temporary, but living with it was something else.

For weeks it had felt like the city was a sauna that was slowly turning the dial up, notch by notch, from comfortable to unbearable. Even at night, when the sun finally went to bed after baking the streets all day, the heat relentlessly remained behind. 

The thing about the heat that annoyed Stella the most, was that it seemed to bring a certain level of apathy with it. She was less than inclined to go out unless absolutely necessary, and when inside, she was stir crazy from wanting to be somewhere else. It was too hot to do anything but be hot and annoyed. The heat was holding them prisoner in their own apartment and she was getting cabin fever.

Thank God for air conditioning, yet the bedroom was the only room in the loft that supported it. The rest of the space was cooled by strategically placed ceiling fans which were no match for such extreme temperatures. They did little more than circulate the stifling air, making it a little less unbearable than it was outside.

The past couple weeks, as the heat and humidity was on the rise, Hank had taken to wandering the loft in jockey shorts and nothing else. He tried to encourage Stella to do the same, reminding her of his long ago proposal for Topless Tuesdays, which she’d previously declined based on the climate of London, but maybe it was time to revisit the initiative. She opted for thin cotton tank tops or sports bras paired with sleep shorts. Hank may have been comfortable answering the door for take-out delivery in his underwear, but she preferred to be somewhat decent.

It was her fault though. Hank had asked what she wanted to do with her time off from classes and he’d offered to whisk her away to anywhere she wanted to go, provided there was no skiing involved. There was talk of a return to Bora Bora, but ultimately, she decided that what she wanted was just to stay put, relax, maybe go to a few museums, and use the time to leisurely prepare for the next semester without feeling rushed. Next year, she would consider the forecast before turning down a chance to get out of the city.

The clouds started coming in that morning, graciously shielding the city from direct sunlight, but bore down like a damp blanket, trapping the heat in place. By late afternoon, those same clouds took on an ominous darkness, promising to burst, but keeping everyone in a state of unfulfilled expectation. Hank had been working on a script rewrite all day and had already taken three cold shower breaks. Stella had been revising lesson plans in fits and starts, barricading herself in the bedroom with the air conditioner and a large bottle of ice water. Even leaving for a few minutes to warm leftover pasta for lunch had her perspiring from head to toe. 

Late in the day, when she emerged from the bedroom to procure more water, she found Hank at the windows. The sun should have been setting at that time of day, filling the west-facing room with orange light. Instead, it was muted and grey.

“It needs to rain,” Hank said. 

“The sooner the better,” she answered. She eyed the sheen of sweat layering Hank’s shoulders and back and was annoyed all over again. It had been too hot to touch and too hot to fuck. She’d probably feel less frustrated and agitated if she could get in one really good orgasm. Every time they came in orbit of each other though, it was like standing next to a furnace in the middle of the Sahara, air conditioner or not, it was too damn hot.

“Oh…” Hank craned his head closer to the window and pointed up towards the north. “Did you see that?”

Stella turned and peered out past the rooftops into the thick clouds. A few seconds later a flash of lightning pierced through the haze and illuminated the sky. Soon, it was flickering across the sky like a strobe, followed by the occasional low murmur of distant thunder. They stayed at the window, waiting silently, almost breathlessly, for the much anticipated rain. 

“There it is,” she said. The streets below took on a foggy layer of steam as the rain began to land. Large streaks appeared on the window and she put her hand against the glass as she looked down eight stories. It was cooler than she expected and so she rested her forehead against the window as well, almost moaning from the slight relief it provided.

Stella rolled to the side to put the back of her shoulders against the window and looked at Hank. He leaned against the window frame watching the weather unfold. She never tired of gazing at his body and sometimes liked to remind herself that he belonged to her. Not just for a night or two, but forever. It was a good thing too, because she was certain that he had ruined for anyone else. There was never going to be anyone that could do the things to her that he did, and not just sexually. She was fulfilled in ways she didn’t even know were possible.

He was only a foot away, close enough to touch. Despite the heat, she reached out and dragged two fingers down his sternum. When she cleared his navel, she rotated her wrist and pushed her hand inside his underwear.

“Hey now,” Hank said, his hips jerking towards her in surprise.

He radiated heat into her hand, but she didn’t want to stop. It had been two weeks too long without physical contact and she wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. She stroked him into full attention as he leaned heavily against the window frame, his mouth dropped open as he softly panted his appreciation of her ministrations.

She could get him off quite easily, but a handjob wasn’t going to be satisfying for her. Not when what she wanted was to have him inside her, filling her, fucking the restlessness out of her. She slipped her hand from his shorts and he groaned.

“That’s just cruel,” he groaned.

Stella’s reply was to turn around to the window again and brace her forearm against the glass. She dropped her head to the back of her hand and shifted her feet apart and pushed her hips back in invitation.

“Thought you said it was too hot for fucking,” he said as he took a grip on her hips. His hands burned her skin. They hadn’t even started anything particular exerting and yet she could already feel the sweat slide down her spine and pool into the dip above her tailbone.

“It is,” she said. “But, I don’t fucking care right now.”

And she didn’t. She felt like an overripe peach, ready to burst from a single touch. She was hot and swollen and dripping with heat and sweat and lust. He rubbed his pelvis against her ass and she moaned. The storm surged outside and rain pelted the window with unnerving force. Her hot breath against the glass created a bloom of condensation, obscuring her view of the empty streets below.

Hank knelt behind her, dragging her shorts and panties off her hips and down her legs. She stepped out of one side and then kicked the clothes off her ankle from the other. His 5 o’clock shadow rasped against the back of her knee and she moaned, going weak with desire. She felt his tongue slide up the back of her thigh and under the swell of her asscheek. His nose dragged up into the cleft of her ass and his tongue darted out again, slipping just between her folds and then through her cheeks to her tailbone.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he said.

“It’s impatience,” she answered.

“Never heard of it. Is that by Chanel?”

“God dammit, Hank.”

“Alright, alright. You’re in a shut up and fuck me mood, I got it.”

“And yet you’re still talking.”

“Not for long.”

They’d only managed this position a few times without finding a way to make her taller, but they did manage. She felt him dip his hips behind her and his cock rubbed up along her entrance. She reached down and opened herself up for him, inhaling swiftly as he pushed up sharply into her.

“God,” she breathed. “That’s good.” She braced her other arm above her head on the window as he gave a few short and shallow thrusts into her.

“If I don’t pull a fucking hammy.”

“Mmm, yes.”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

“I’ll rub you down with that blue gel you’re fond of.”

“A full service massage?”

“You’re being fully serviced as we speak, but you’re not getting anything if I don’t come.”

“You know I never leave you high and dry, Sherlock.”

“It’s why I married you.”

Hank grunted and one hand left her hip to squeeze her breast. He pulled at the low collar of her tank top to expose a nipple to his greedy fingers. She groaned and pushed her hips back against his thrusts, the tight pinch he gave sending sharp bolts of both pain and pleasure to her core, making her ache all the more desperately for release.

Mother Nature put on a dazzling display of electricity as Stella sought to reach the crest of satisfaction. She dropped one arm to reach down and touch herself, but Hank grabbed it and pinned it back against the window. He folded himself over her, pushing her arms and shoulders into the glass as he slammed his hips against hers.

“Bastard,” she moaned. 

“Let me,” he answered, taking his hand off her breast to slide down and fondle her where she needed it most.

If anyone was better than she was at playing her like a Stradivarius, it was Hank. He knew the exact amount of pressure she liked, the exact way to circle, to pinch, to pull, to press. She never had to worry when she was in his hands, she just had to let go.

“Come on,” he said. “Come on, Stella.”

“Close,” she answered. She had climbed high and was hanging on the precipice, one more thrust, one more swirl of Hank’s fingers and she had it. “Fuck, yes,” she breathed. “Oh...oh…”

“Stella,” he moaned, taking a bruising grip on her waist to hold her steady as he succumbed to his own pleasure.

Heat rolled off of her in waves. Her body was drenched in perspiration, hair sticking to her neck and temples, beads of sweat dripping off her brow and upper lip. Yet, she was too absolutely satiated to be bothered by it.

Hank backed out of her and off of her and she groaned a little. She unfolded her arms and shrugged her shoulders to ease the ache in her overtaxed muscles. The storm had calmed a bit, less torrential now and more like a steady stream.

Hank scooped his underwear off the floor and then stretched. “Just what we needed,” he said.

She smiled a little and searched for her own clothes. “I have been a little tense,” she admitted.

“I was talking about the rain. That was some A+ fucking though, Professor Sherlock. Certainly hit the spot.”

She smacked him on the ass as he bent over to pull his shorts on. He jumped and yelped, feigning injury.

“Where are you going?” she asked, as he walked away.

“Cold shower,” he answered. “It’s too hot for fucking.”

The End


End file.
